


Trouble is Coming

by sunshineflying



Series: A Song of Trash and Fire [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chrome Dome Architects, Drunk Sex, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hux likes to drink away his sorrows, Phasma is having none of his bullshit, Unsafe Sex, don't make it weird, gotta give it the old college try, insert disappointing oral sex here, the foreshadowing is strong in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineflying/pseuds/sunshineflying
Summary: Set several years before the beginning ofA Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno, this ficlet shows the relationship between Hux and Phasma, and how they got from where they were in high school, to where they are when the main fic starts.Featuring brokenhearted Hux, Phasma still figuring out who she is, and a lot of poor decision making (heed the tags VERY CAREFULLY), take a look at six months of Hux and Phasma, just after college.





	Trouble is Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to all who have read or are reading the Song of Trash and Fire fic and side ficlets. I do hope you enjoy this one!

When Phasma had gotten the text from Hux to join him at a pub in Dublin, she’d expected to meet this mysterious Deaglan that he’d told her so much about. It had been so strange, seeing Hux so clearly excited and interested in someone. Usually, he held a strong disdain of _anyone_ that wasn’t one or two close friends - mostly just her, with some concessions made for Ben Solo. But Deaglan… 

The man had - dare she say it? - captured Hux’s heart. He’d gone on about him in his own way, of course. Spouting facts casually in conversation, not gushing like a woman or romantic male lead might have. But very often, Hux found a way to drop something about Deaglan into conversation. The way it sounded, this visit was long overdue.

So when Phasma walked into the pub only to see Hux alone at the end of the bar, his hair already a bit disheveled but not in a way that would imply he’d had a quick one-off in the bathroom, her brow furrowed in concern. “Having a party without me?” she asked coyly, taking a seat on the barstool next to him.

To make her decision easy, she asked for whatever Hux was drinking. He had refined tastes in whiskey, even at age twenty-five. He knew what he was talking about, and she trusted his judgment.

“He’s engaged.”

Hux looked miserable, the corners of his mouth drooping, his eyes a bit shiny (though that very well could be the liquor, if the slight slur of his words was any indication). “Ah. I take it you weren’t even aware he had a partner?”

“A _woman_.” Hux frowned.

Phasma looked unamused. “Heaven forbid he be _bisexual_ ,” she criticized, her voice monotone.

“That’s not the problem,” he snipped. “You know full well I am, too.” Her criticism was referring, of course, to her own sexuality, which she’d divulged to him in the darkness when he’d slept over at her house for her seventeenth birthday. 

“Then what is the problem?” she pressed.

Phasma sipped at the whiskey the bartender had offered her, and watched Hux with a mixture of annoyance and pity. It was obvious he was disappointed in Deaglan’s current relationship status, but what had he expected? He’d studied abroad in 2011 - there was no chance Deaglan would have waited around for _four years_ waiting for Hux to come back. It was nonsense, plain and simple.

Hux downed the rest of his whiskey, and then looked at Phasma. “He didn’t even bother telling me until today,” Hux frowned. “We’ve talked for _years_. Ever since I left, we’ve kept in touch. And he never once thought to tell me about her.”

“Maybe he worried you’d react just like this,” she said, nodding to his general mopey and slightly immature demeanor.

Narrowing his eyes, Hux said, “I don’t think it’s _unreasonable_ to be upset.”

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

Hux had never said it outright, because he had a shockingly strong phobia of the word, but there was no other way to describe why he was reacting in quite this manner. Aside from the fact that he was in a foreign country where hardly anyone knew him, of course. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

That was as close to a ‘yes’ as Phasma knew she was going to get. “Alright then,” Phasma said, taking a sip of the whiskey. It was alright. Not the best she’d ever had, but it would do. Either Hux’s taste in whiskey had declined, or he’d bought whatever was most readily available so that he could get drunk. “What do you propose we do about it?”

Confusion filled Hux’s expression and he cocked his head to the side, considering her words. “ _Do_ about it?”

“Yes,” Phasma nodded. “You called me to help, so here I am. What are we going to do about it?”

“N-nothing,” Hux replied, shaking his head. He didn’t understand. He’d only wanted to complain. Phasma was about the only person he could open up to these days, and she was also his only travel companion. “I just wanted to talk.”

Phasma took a sip of her whiskey. “Well, you don’t seem to want to do much of that, either.”

Irritated, Hux quipped, “Just drink.”

“Oh, I’m invited to the pity party now?”

Narrowing his eyes, Hux took the refilled glass of whiskey that he’d just been delivered, and he downed it in one gulp. Phasma quickly realized that her curt, impatient manner probably wasn’t helping him. At all. “Armitage, that’s enough,” she said, her voice suddenly softer, more tender.

“Or what?”

Phasma shook her head. If this was how he was going to act, then she would indulge. She would show him just how pointless and stupid his little tantrum was. For as much as he liked to ridicule Ben for his sometimes less-than-ideal displays of anger and frustration, Hux had his own way of doing the exact same thing.

And though she’d never admit it, Phasma did, too, in the form of petty retaliation.

Instead of responding with words, Phasma picked up her tumbler of whiskey, held it up in salute, and then tossed it back, downing all of it in one massive, burning shot. She pulled a face, and she could already see the bartender watching them with slight exasperation. Phasma made a mental note to tip him well, whether or not it was the custom. Dealing with them that evening was not going to be the most enjoyable thing for the man.

So they drank.

Luckily, Hux had enough opinions on the matter of Deaglan being engaged that he slowed his drinking somewhat. Hux ranted about how he was disappointed in Deaglan for not trusting him. About how he thought they’d built more trust than that. 

The toughest thing for Phasma to listen to, though, was when Hux turned the tables and started saying how if he hadn’t been so afraid of leaving everything behind, he would have just moved to Ireland. Prevented this heartbreak, this feeling of betrayal. If he’d just stayed behind and transferred to Trinity College after studying abroad there for a year, he could have stayed with Deaglan and they wouldn’t have had to break it off.

What had started as disappointment had morphed its way into self-loathing, and if there was one thing Phasma had very little tolerance for, it was that. “You’ve got to stop this,” Phasma said.

She heard her words slur ever so slightly, but she liked to think that at twenty-five, she was mature enough to know her limits (she was wrong). Hux blinked as he looked at her, a bit unfocused himself. “No more liquor.” 

She slid a wad of bills across the bar to the bartender and asked if it was enough. The bartender took most of it, but left a small pile. Phasma left it there anyway and took hold of Hux’s hand. He was clammy, warm and cold at the same time in a way that probably only he could be. “You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she instructed.

“Easier said than done.”

Phasma led him almost frantically through the pub, and then out the front doors. The cool night air hit them in the face - slapped them, more like - and they both stood right outside the doors, soaking it in.

“We should get a cab,” Hux said after a moment, grasping their surroundings at least slightly.

Phasma smirked at him. “You don’t want to walk?”

He glanced up the street, and then down the other way, before turning to Phasma. “I don’t remember where we are,” he slurred. 

She barked out peals of bright laughter and kept his hand firmly held in her own. “Alright. But you’re paying.”

“Obviously,” Hux said, waving his arm in the air.

It took a few moments of Hux looking more undignified than his sober-self would have liked, but finally a cab pulled over and the two of them climbed in. In the backseat, Phasma scooted as close to Hux as she could, her buzz settling into her, and her desire to comfort Hux in the forefront of her mind. What better way to comfort someone than with physical contact, right?

Hux kept his hand on Phasma’s, and he glanced at her through loose tendrils of hair that fell over his forehead. 

When their eyes met, Phasma smiled. “You’re better off without him,” she insisted. “If this is how he _trusts you_ ,” she rolled her eyes, “moving here in college wouldn’t have worked out anyway, in the end.”

Hux sighed. He sounded almost wistful as he said, “True, but more time with him would have been nice.”

“There’s someone better for you out there,” Phasma insisted. 

“Not in Philadelphia, there’s not.”

Amused, Phasma shrugged. “Maybe so, but you have all the time in the world.”

That drew some laughter from Hux, and he glanced up at her before looking out the window over her shoulder. “Funny statement coming from someone whose biological clock is ticking.”

“I have at _least_ fifteen more years in me,” Phasma replied. She was talking louder than usual; that was what happened when she got drunk, and very few people in the world actually knew it.

“You think you’re going to have a baby when you’re _forty_?” Hux replied. “I highly doubt that. I thought it was impossible after thirty-five or so.”

“It’s not particularly safe, but it’s not _unheard_ of,” Phasma explained. Their eyes met again, and both of them laughed. “Why the fuck are we talking about babies?” she asked.

“I have _no_ idea,” Hux responded.

The cab pulled up outside the hotel, and Hux followed in suit as Phasma had done earlier and just handed over a wad of cash. He knew it was more than enough to cover it, but didn’t care by how much. It wasn’t his own money, after all. His father would never know. Pocket change, and all that.

Then, as they stood outside on the sidewalk, underneath the stars and the dim lighting from their five-star hotel, Phasma and Hux looked at each other. Hux hadn’t taken the time to really, properly look at her in a while. Her hair was short, but not as short as his. She kept it in a bob somewhere around the length of her chin - platinum blonde, as always. It made her icy blue eyes stand out, and that evening he noticed that her lips looked redder than usual. He didn’t think she wore lipstick, but could have been wrong.

She’d grown taller than him in the last few years, surpassing him by a fair few inches. Most men would have a complex about it, but Hux found that the height really suited Phasma. More often than not, she seemed larger than life - she knew so much, and she was good at even more. And now here he stood, drunk on the sidewalk with her in Ireland, and all he could think about was that he had _no idea_ what came next. 

Phasma didn’t seem to know either, because as she looked down into his eyes, he didn’t see that sure confidence he was so used to. She looked… confused, almost. Definitely drunk. He hadn’t seen her like this since the graduation party at her house, when they’d all been eighteen and shocked by the array of liquor her parents had bought for them.

His mouth was parted open softly, and even as he licked his lips, Hux didn’t entirely know what he was going to do yet. But then his hands framed her face and she tipped her head to the side and years later, neither would know with absolute certainty who’d initiated the kiss.

When their lips met, it was messy and uncoordinated, teeth bumping and Hux sharply breathing in. It wasn’t anything he’d expected of his first kiss with Phasma - not that he’d really thought about it much. But then she pulled away, tipped her head to the other side, and giggled ever so slightly. “Do over?”

“Please,” Hux agreed.

The second time was the charm, their lips meeting in a more coordinated fashion, no clacking of teeth or undignified sounds. Phasma’s lips were pillowy soft against Hux’s own, and both were intoxicated enough not to realize that this maybe should have been a bit strange, kissing their best friend. Instead, it was just a comfort - a balm to soothe Hux’s wounded heart and ego, and for Phasma, it was just another in a long list of strange things she’d done for the sake of being open-minded.

Her hands gripped Hux’s sweater, tugging him closer to her own body, neither willing to part from the other for more than a desperate pull for air between kisses. They probably looked a sight, unsteady on their feet, hands grasping dumbly, mouths moving together almost frantically. But they were drunk, and they were friends, and that night it just felt right.

The valet outside the hotel cleared his throat, and suddenly Hux and Phasma separated, jumping to put a couple feet of distance between them. Phasma pursed her lips while Hux tried not-so-subtly to wipe his thumb across his own lip. “Right,” Hux said breathlessly. He looked to Phasma. “Inside?”

“Yes,” she nodded eagerly.

Whether for the sake of decency and show, or something else, their hands met again as they walked into the hotel. They tried to look subtle as they stepped into the elevator, but they weren’t fooling anyone. The whole time they stood, Phasma tried to hide her smile.

When the doors to the elevator finally shut, Hux and Phasma looked to each other in tandem. Just like in all the cheesy romantic comedies neither would _ever_ watch, they lunged at each other in the elevator, mouths connecting messily once more. It was like a dam had broken and now they couldn’t hold back. They’d had a taste, and they were curious for more, so what use was there in fighting it?

Their limbs were bumbling and heavy from the alcohol as they moved from the elevator to the hallway to Hux’s hotel room. It was a double room, and the night before they’d slept in their own beds, but now there was no point. They knew how far this could go, what _could_ happen, and though they had different reasons for it, both were ready and eager. Hux needed to forget Deaglan, to have that rebound, and Phasma? Well… she liked sex, and she was not afraid to admit that.

The alcohol rendered them sloppy and clumsy as they entered the hotel room, the two of them leaning in for kisses between labored attempts at undressing themselves or each other. Really, they were a bumbling mess of limbs and if there was a God above, he’d make sure they didn’t remember just how awkward and uncoordinated they were tonight.

It would be over so fast, but that was okay, because they were friends and maybe disappointing sex was par for the course for best friends. Both were sure that was why Ben and Rey were sleeping with other people rather than each other - they’d tried it once but it just wasn’t worth it, probably. Phasma tossed back the blankets on the bed, stumbling a little as she did so. Hux caught her waist, both of them laughing. 

They were drunk, and ridiculous, and a downright mess. But Hux was smiling, and Phasma was rather proud of that fact, even if she found herself faced with the impulse to kiss the smile right off his pretty red lips. All this while they stood side by side next to the bed, naked and flushed and giggly.

The two were a little less frantic as their lips met this time, Hux’s hand cupping Phasma’s cheek again as he pressed closer to her, coaxing her to him. And it should have been weird. In hindsight, that’s exactly what Hux would realize. But it wasn’t. Phasma’s naked body against his own, Hux’s erection rubbing insistently against her hip. They’d been friends _forever_. That made this infinitely more complicated than either were willing to acknowledge in their drunken state.

Phasma’s fingernails scratched at his hips as she stumbled backwards, legs bumping the bed. She’d grown unsteady and dizzy - whether from the alcohol or Hux, she didn’t know. She didn’t think about it too hard. Hux followed her to the bed, kneeling over her as she laid back against the sheets. They were so pristine and white; it felt ridiculous to be so drunk and reckless atop them.

She let out a soft keening noise against his mouth as Hux settled between her legs, their bodies pressed together once more. She could feel him, hard and eager, ready for her. She didn’t know if she was ready, yet. Was she? The ease with which he slid against her should have been a dead giveaway but her head was spinning - she hadn’t been this drunk in a _long_ time.

“Phas,” Hux breathed.

Phasma slowed the moment considerably, stealing a kiss from Hux and letting it linger, her hands threaded in his disheveled red hair.

“Do it,” she insisted.

Hux knew nothing about Phasma’s _history_ , for lack of a better word, but he trusted that if she wasn’t ready, she’d speak up. Even in his drunken state, he was very conscious of whether or not he’d be hurting her.

Gently, he rolled his hips down against her, both of them gasping when she felt the tip pressing at her entrance. This was it. They were going to do this. And it wasn’t going to make anything weird, at all. No way. They just had to —

“Condom.”

Hux muttered the word against Phasma’s mouth, almost in surprise. How could he have forgotten?

“I didn’t bring any,” Phasma muttered. “I didn’t think I’d —”

That drew a peal of laughter out of Hux. He leaned his forehead to hers, completely amused by the situation they’d found themselves in. “I didn’t bring any, either. Deaglan always…”

He trailed off now, his joy beginning to dissipate at the memory of him. Hux’s moping was quickly interrupted by Phasma’s hand, reaching down between them. She stroked his length once, twice. She could feel her slick on him, and in her head she weighed the options. “I’m on birth control,” she whispered. “And if that doesn’t work… we have options.”

“You want to do this still?” Hux asked with genuine surprise.

“You are _not_ giving me blue balls,” Phasma shot.

Hux smirked. “If anyone would —”

“Oh Christ, just _get in me_.”

Phasma’s hand guided him, and in a few short seconds, that was that. She gasped as he filled her, his eyes screwed shut as he wore a less-than-attractive expression at the feeling. Hux eased his way in, breathing heavily at how tight she was, how strange this all should have seemed. But being connected to Phasma in this way was just one more thing that the two of them shared, have been through together.

She pulled him into another kiss, focusing him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he knelt over her, deep inside of her. This was reckless and stupid and crazy but it felt good, and they were drunk, and _fuck_ , Hux forgot how to breathe when Phasma kissed at his neck.

Hux rolled his hips, sinking deeper within her, then sliding out, savoring every sensation like it’d be his last, drinking in the taste of Phasma on his lips. This would probably never happen again. He brought a hand to her breast, cupping it in his hand. As the pad of his thumb brushed over her nipple, he could feel Phasma tighten around him, could hear her gasp against his skin. So she liked that, then.

If they hadn’t been quite so frantic, he could have found that out during foreplay. Vaguely he wondered if they could have a do-over for this, too, just like they had for the kiss. Hux was suddenly filled with the impulse to figure out everything that turned Phasma to putty beneath someone’s hands, to explore every inch of her. He wasn’t romantically attracted to her or anything, but physically she was a beautiful person, and Hux was well aware that she didn’t let just anyone near her, not in this capacity.

Phasma tipped her head back up, her nose bumping Hux’s. He kept a steady rhythm with his hips but it wasn’t enough. She needed — “ _More_ ,” she breathed.

His hand worked at her breast again and in combination with the way he sped his thrusts just slightly, Phasma’s head tipped back against the sheets. She was about fifty percent sure that even if he did everything she asked of him, she still may not come. It wasn’t always easy for her to get there. But so far, Hux had proven eager and willing to do as she said, to give her what she wanted. Besides, Phasma had learned recently that she found more satisfaction knowing she’d made her partner come than getting off herself. It wasn’t the norm, but it was alright. That’s why women could fake it, right?

Phasma’s eyes fluttered open to look up at Hux, and she caught his gaze for just a moment. He looked a mess, as sweaty as she felt, his hair tumbling down into his eyes, his skin flushed a blotchy pink color. _This should have been weird._ Their next kiss slowed the moment down considerably, the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the room. Hux kept rolling his hips but he’d slowed his pace again. They could hear themselves, the skin slapping skin, the wetness between Phasma’s legs… it was obscene. And again, _it should have been weird._

“C’mon,” Phasma groaned. She rocked her hips as best she could beneath him. She wanted him to keep going - she was actually starting to think that maybe she’d be able to get off. “Don’t stop.”

Ridiculously eager to please, Hux did as she asked. Phasma tugged his hair and used her legs to drag his hips closer, and she did everything she could to increase the voracity with which he fucked her. As his movements became more erratic, Phasma felt a knot coiling in her belly. Maybe it would happen. 

Much to her surprise, Hux fumbled around for her hand. She hadn’t taken him to be much of a hand-holder. Even more surprising was that _wasn’t_ what he was trying to do. No, instead, he guided her hand down between their bodies. As much as Hux might want to _try_ , he knew it’d be more disappointing than pleasurable if he tried to touch her while he fucked her. He was far too drunk for that. His head was already spinning.

But he _could_ thumb over her nipples again, help in her efforts to get off. They were messy, uncoordinated, a bumbling mess of limbs and thrusts and moans that were a little louder than either of them realized. “Phas, I’m —”

“Don’t stop,” she urged.

It was stupid. He could have at least pulled out or something, upped their chances of _not_ accidentally getting her pregnant, but she was so close, and it had been forever since someone other than herself made her come.

Hux’s thrusts slowed, but he didn’t stop. He gasped, pressing his forehead to Phasma’s, as his whole body shook. Phasma’s eyes widened; she hadn’t expected to actually be able to feel him coming, the faint trace of something new inside of her as she swirled her fingers around, urging her body closer to the high she so desperately wanted. And _fuck_ , she kind of hated that she _loved_ this new feeling, the way her toes curled at the sensation.

It was a bit too much for Hux but Phasma’s reaction told him so much, and he kept thrusting into her, even when he was spent and sensitive and ready to sleep. Moments later, he watched her mouth drop open, eyes squished shut, as she came around him. Hux watched with mild curiosity as she came, the way she seemed to forget how to breathe, the way her whole body grew tense and she arched off the bed beautifully, hair a mess against the sheets, forehead slicked with a sheen of sweat.

He pulled out of her a moment later, vaguely aware of the mess they’d just left on the sheets. Hux chanced a small look, but tried not to stare at how pink and wet she was, or what was probably worse — the few drops of cum dripping down her skin and onto the blankets. His gut twisted with worry, and he brought his gaze back up to meet Phasma’s.

She looked blissed-out and tired, unaware of the stupidity of what they’d just done. She kept one leg propped up on the bed, the other extended out next to him. Hux leaned back, still kneeling between her legs where she lay completely, unabashedly exposed. “Well… that only took us ten years,” she joked, trying to laugh it off.

Phasma scooted back on the bed, pressing her legs together as she did so. She could feel the mess between her legs and wanted to clean it up, but also didn’t want to get out of bed. Her head was spinning, and it didn’t feel quite as blissful as it had an hour ago.

Hux seemed to grasp the moment a little better than she did, because he disappeared into the ensuite and emerged a few moments later with some damp cloths so they could clean up. “I should probably just have a shower,” Phasma said, noticing the way Hux was suddenly too bashful to face her as she wiped his cum from her thighs. “I’ll wait until morning, though. After you order us room service.”

He chuckled. “Yes. Right. Room service.”

Phasma grabbed the nearest throw pillow and chucked it at his head. “Don’t be weird about this.”

Hux’s hair was a damn mess already, but the pillow only made it worse. He was flushed and naked and looked a little like he didn’t know what came next. Or why Phasma was so cool about it. “It’s not weird,” Hux snipped.

It was a little weird.

After another moment, Phasma stood from the bed. She swayed on her feet a moment, the residual effects of the alcohol hitting her harder than she’d expected. Hux steadied her, but Phasma would insist she didn’t need it. “You may want to lay a towel down on your bed,” she chuckled, glancing to the small spot on the bed where they’d just been. “We made a bit of a mess.”

She climbed into her own bed, sprawling out naked beneath the blankets, pointedly letting Hux know that he was not, in fact, welcome to share her nice, clean bed. “Phas,” Hux said dryly.

He slid into the blankets of her bed anyway, and was a little surprised by the lack of protestation the gesture was met with. Phasma just slid to the side, letting him in. “I’m sorry Deaglan hurt you,” she said, once the lamp was off and they lay in the darkness, sleep looming over both of them.

They were so drowsy, but Phasma needed Hux to know what she thought of the situation, and that she was on his side. “You’re better off without him. You’ll find someone better.”

“You have to say that,” Hux sighed. “You’re my best friend.”

“Yes,” Phasma agreed. “But now that I know all the… _skills_ you bring to the table…” Hux smacked her — not angrily, but in warning — and she chuckled. “I know there are at least five or six people out there who would appreciate the skills you bring to the bedroom.”

“Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Phasma rolled her eyes, but then realized he couldn’t see her when she did that. So, she rolled on her side and flicked his shoulder. Hux turned his gaze to her, feigning annoyance. “You _will_ find someone. Just give it time.”

He sighed heavily and turned his gaze back to the ceiling of their hotel room. He didn’t particularly _want_ to go through all that trouble again. Being alone really wasn’t the worst idea in the world. Letting people in only led to disappointment. Except Phasma. She’d proven herself, long before tonight.

She kissed his shoulder and said, “We should talk about this in the morning.”

Quietly, Hux nodded. They had to talk about it. This was… something. It wasn’t weird, but it wasn’t comfortable, either. And when they were sober, a conversation would be necessary. But for now, they would sleep.

When Hux woke the next morning, the bed was empty. The sheets weren’t even warm on Phasma’s side. She’d been awake for a while, apparently. Blearily, Hux blinked open his eyes, his head screaming at him as he slowly sat up. There in the corner, at the table by the window, sat Phasma, sipping a coffee and miraculously looking as miserable as he felt. She wore a fluffy white bathrobe and her hair was damp. 

“Hi,” Hux said. His voice was hoarse and gravelly.

“Hello,” she responded.

Phasma was usually so unflappable, but today she looked quite caught up in her head. “There’s more coffee in the maker,” she pointed to the kitchenette as she spoke.

Hux wanted to nod, but his head screamed at him not to. As he climbed out of bed and the cool air of the room touched his naked body, vivid memories of the night before flew into his head. On his way to the coffee, he stopped at the armoire to pull on some briefs and his own white robe to match Phasma’s. He hated the feeling that something was off, but something was definitely off.

“We should talk about last night.”

Phasma, like always, seemed to be able to read his mind. As he poured his mug of coffee, all he could do was nod. It hurt like hell. But he didn’t know what to say, so he had no choice.

“It was only a matter of time,” Phasma continued as Hux slowly crossed the room to join her at the table. 

He wanted to order breakfast, both for his hangover and to avoid the conversation, but he knew Phasma wouldn’t allow that. 

“I hadn’t expected to be your rebound, though.”

Hux’s eyes flashed quickly up to meet hers. Sourly, he insisted, “I’m over him.”

“No, you’re not.”

Phasma shook her head and though Hux desperately wanted to fight her on this, he acknowledged that it would be a losing battle. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” Hux responded. “I was stupid and took advantage —”

“No, you didn’t.” Phasma looked calmly across the table at him. “I wouldn’t have slept with you unless I wanted to. Nobody takes advantage of me.”

Hux sighed and relented. “Okay, so we both wanted to do it then, I guess. Now what?”

Phasma sipped her coffee and mulled it over. Hux felt ill as he waited for her answer. They were best friends. She was his only confidante. After the news from Deaglan the day before, Hux had no desire to stay in touch with the man, nor would he trust him with any intimate details about his own life, given that Deaglan couldn’t be bothered to do the same in return.

“For fear of spooking you, I won’t say we should date, but…” she paused, considering it. “Attempting something like that wouldn’t be the strangest thing.”

Hux sat, mulling the idea over in his head. “I think you make a good point, but how do we know it won’t be weird? Last night we were drunk. Things can be very different when sober.”

“Not always,” Phasma countered. “But I see your point.”

They were both quiet for a moment, sipping their coffee and weighing the possibilities. Finally, Hux suggested. “We could try it. Today. While we’re here. See how it goes.”

Phasma raised an eyebrow. “Like a trial period?”

Shrugging, Hux replied, “I suppose.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “One month, then. You’re different over here. It may work in Dublin but not in Philadelphia.”

The more they discussed this — like a business transaction, no less — the stranger it all sounded. Hux nodded his agreement, just to get the conversation done and over with. What was one month, anyway? It wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it’d last longer than that. Maybe this was what they were meant to do — who they were meant to be with — from the very start.

Silence filled the room again, and Hux reached across the table for the room service menu. “I already ordered,” Phasma said, her knowing smile back upon her lips. “I got all our favorites. You promised, after all.”

Hux glanced up. He had made that promise last night, hadn’t he? “Thanks.”

Phasma wore a small, satisfied smile as she nodded. “You should shower. After we eat, I’d like to find a pharmacy.”

“Ah,” Hux winced. “Morning after pill?” The night before flashed through his mind again, this time interlaced with guilt. They should have been more careful. “I’ll buy it for you.”

“That, yes,” Phasma agreed. “But we should probably also get some condoms. If we’re doing this for real, I’d like some sober sex as well, please.”

Hux laughed. “Of course. It’s only fair.”

“Fuck fair,” Phasma smiled. “You’re the first partner I’ve had in years who has actually managed to make me come.”

Mockingly, Hux put a hand over his heart. “I’m touched.”

Phasma pointed across the table. “Drunk you set the bar pretty high. Let’s hope sober you can deliver the same results.”

“We shall see,” replied Hux as he stood from the table. “We shall see.”

Phasma sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. As she did, the top of her robe slipped open ever so slightly, revealing more of her breasts. Hux flushed pink as he retreated to the bathroom. Things like that would take some getting used to, it seemed. And in the meantime, Phasma was quite satisfied with the reactions she drew from Hux.

This was going to be fun.

+++

As it turned out, things were in fact not as easy in Philadelphia as they were in Dublin. Both Hux and Phasma worked a lot, and it seemed that everyone they ran into knew them, and had opinions about their new relationship.

Like when Hux joined Phasma at a charity gala for her architecture firm and they ran into Bazine Netal, from high school. That was their strangest encounter to date, in the two weeks they’d been attempting to date.

“Hux and Phasma?”

She’d practically shouted across the room as she dragged an older man with her to say hello. The look of amusement and satisfaction on her face clued them both into the fact that this wasn’t going to go well. “Well, it’s about time,” she observed.

That was the most common response to their relationship, and it irked both of them to no end.

Bazine looked even better than she had in high school, which was no surprise to either of them. Her dark hair was long and elegant — more controlled and refined than when they were teens — and her dark eyes were even more striking thanks to her smoky eye makeup. She was rain-thin and regal, and had her arm looped through the arm of the older man they assumed to be her husband. “Hello, Bazine,” Phasma responded politely.

She had her own arm draped through Hux’s, but both were overwhelmingly aware that now Phasma was taller than Hux and they drew attention to themselves. Matters weren’t helped any by Phasma’s beautiful metallic silver gown. “Which of you works for Chrome Dome?” Bazine asked.

“That would be me,” replied Phasma, barely managing to contain her annoyance at the question. “I’m a founding member.”

Bazine smiled sweetly, though it was all false niceties. “Congratulations. Your firm does beautiful work.” She paused, and then explained, “You all built my husband’s company’s new building.”

“Ah,” Phasma nodded, pretending she knew. She’d never seen this man before, and besides — they designed a lot of buildings. It was sort of their _job_. “Happy to help.”

Bazine then turned to Hux. “And what is it _you’re_ doing now?”

“I’m one of the financial officers for the Empire Group,” he explained. “Head of Mergers.”

Bazine smiled that fake, sweet smile again, this time with a hint of amusement sparkling in her dark eyes. “Working for your father? How cute.”

Hux’s whole body tensed, but Phasma’s firm touch on his forearm calmed him just enough to get him to bite his tongue. 

“So,” Bazine continued. “Are you dating? Engaged? Married?”

“Dating,” Phasma said curtly. It still sounded strange to hear. 

“Oh.” Bazine seemed surprised. “I expected you two to be married with children by now, not wasting away your years sorting out feelings that have been there for decades.”

“Really?” Hux scoffed. “You thought I was father material?”

Bazine gazed patronizingly at him. “To be fair, I also thought Ben Solo was worth my time.” She took a sip of the pale pink cocktail she held in her free hand. “What’s he up to these days?”

Hux was immediately ready to mock Ben with her, but Phasma cut in again. Her touch on his forearm warned him to just _relax_. “He’s writing. He has prospects, but nothing’s been published yet. He’s working on perfecting the piece,” she lied.

Well, it wasn’t a _total_ lie. He truly was writing, but Ben’s problem was that he was his own worst critic and hadn’t shown the manuscript to anyone — though they couldn’t be sure whether he trusted Rey enough to show her. “Ah,” Bazine hummed. “What about him? Married? Children?”

“Not yet, no,” Phasma continued. “He’s focusing on his career.”

She hoped like hell that Bazine was too high-brow to visit First Order Coffee; she’d hate to go through all this trouble to cover his ass just for _that_ to blow his cover. “Well,” Bazine said, already growing bored with the conversation, “Give him my best, and wish him luck. Lord knows he’ll need it.” She looked between them, laughing at her own joke, and then settled her gaze on Hux. “Maybe when I see you at our reunion in a few years, Phasma will have a rock on her finger?” She tilted her head to the side, studying Phasma now. “She’s a catch, Huxy. Don’t let her go.”

With a beautiful swoosh of her hair, Bazine spun to face her husband and led him away to the bar. Immediately, Hux’s face turned sour. “Don’t let her get to you,” hummed Phasma under her breath.

“She was insufferable then and she’s managed to become even more so now,” he muttered bitterly under his breath. “And the thing about the ring —”

Phasma glanced over, affronted. “I do hope you’d get at least a decent-sized rock for whomever you marry. But nothing as gaudy as hers. Did you see it?”

Boredly, Hux gazed at Bazine, who had now moved to the opposite side of the ballroom. “Of course. You can see it from here. _So_ tacky.”

“I hate to break it to you, but she really is wealthy if they hired our firm to build her husband’s office.”

“I know,” Hux nodded. “What’s tacky is how she’s flaunting it.”

Phasma chuckled, leading Hux towards the tables at the front where the founding members and their families or guests sat. “She’s a gold digger and she’s proud. But she’s from a working class family and that will _always_ be a part of her.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hux replied, pleased with being able to challenge Phasma in conversation. “My family are the same.”

His whole mother’s side of the family had been blue-collar immigrants from Ireland. His father’s side had been middle-class English — not much better.

“Yes, as is mine,” Phasma agreed. “But the difference is that we don’t try to hide that part of us the way she does.”

Together, they sat at their places, marked with the fanciest stationery and loopy hand-written calligraphy. Almost immediately on seating, they were offered glasses of white wine. Phasma took a sip as Hux countered, “Well, we can’t all be American royalty like you.”

An amused smile played on Hux’s lips as Phasma beamed. “I’ll toast to that.”

Though she didn’t actively partake in any of the frivolous benefits, Phasma was entitled to a membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution organization. She could trace her lineage back to a family who settled in the colonies before the Declaration of Independence had been signed, and could verify that two of her ancestors had fought in the Revolutionary War. She had been very tempted on several occasions to throw that in Bazine’s face, but had resisted. It was more fun to remain a mystery.

Hux, though, knew everything about her. And Phasma found some comfort in that, knowing that if anything happened to her, _someone_ would know the truth. But in the meantime, she had fun with her secrets, and felt a security in sharing the most intimate parts of her body and her life with somebody. And though he’d never admit it, Hux was just as pleased to do the same with Phasma in return.

+++

It had been four weeks since Dublin. Since Hux and Phasma had really decided to give the whole dating thing a fair shot.

It was okay.

They were there for each other just as much as before. They still knew each other’s secrets. But now they knew each other intimately, as well. For Phasma, their relationship lacked… something. It was a challenge to navigate how to do things now — when did they hold hands? When did they keep to themselves? And just how often were they supposed to have sex? Neither could figure out how to bridge the gap between friendship and romance.

But oh, how they wanted to try.

Hux especially was motivated to try. Opening up to someone new sounded dangerous. He’d been burned once already. It was more trouble than it was worth, and Phasma was the safe choice. She already knew everything, so he didn’t have to relive it.

So why was it so weird, holding her hand in public?

And Phasma, who was laid-back and easygoing, who could roll with anything, found herself wondering what they’d look like five, ten, even twenty years in the future. It wasn’t a joyful thought. It was mundane, tense. Boring.

They’d spent the afternoon together — first at the retirement party for Phasma’s mother, who was celebrating over thirty years as a nurse at the same hospital — and then afterwards they’d gone to a movie and out for ice cream. The date was a massive cliche, one Hux wouldn’t ever openly admit to partaking in, but they’d wanted to give this a fair shot. They’d tried to be a couple, like couples were supposed to be.

And now they were in Phasma’s apartment, lying on the sofa. Hux was combing his fingers through Phasma’s short, platinum hair as she used his lap as a pillow. _Game of Thrones_ was on loop in the background on the Apple TV, though it wasn’t a particularly interesting episode. “Have you noticed that we only have sex after we’ve had a few drinks?” Phasma mused.

Hux sighed. He’d tried not to find significance in that realization when it had come to him several weeks back.

“Yes.”

He knew it best not to lie to Phasma; she always found out the truth. And though they’d tried very hard to be intimate when sober, something always got in the way.

“You know, Armitage,” she said, changing the subject only slightly. “It’s been a month, now.”

Hux felt rather disappointed as he repeated, “Yes.”

Slowly, Phasma sat up. She crossed her legs beneath her and turned to face him as he desperately tried to pretend he found this repeat episode of _Game of Thrones_ completely enthralling. 

Then, Phasma switched off the TV. Annoyed, Hux looked over at her. 

She was unrelenting. “We need to talk about what comes next.”

Desperately, he wanted to beg for another month. Surely that would do the trick? But changing Phasma’s mind was no easy feat, and he recognized this. “The sex is good,” he said lamely.

Phasma laughed. “Yes, it is. But we’re never totally sober for it.” She tilted her head to try to catch his gaze, but failed. “That was our first red flag.”

Again, he sighed. “So that’s it? We end it?”

Phasma didn’t usually feel the need to be so gentle. Hux could handle her blunt honesty. He was one of the few who could. But knowing that this whole thing with them had started because Hux had trusted someone else only to be left heartbroken really weighed on her. He’d trusted her in his most vulnerable moments. He still was vulnerable.

“I think we both know we’re not going to be together forever.” Hux looked over sharply, and Phasma added, “Not like this.”

His usual cold, unreadable gaze was wide open to her. He was hurt. But he also knew that she was right. The safe option wasn’t always the best. They’d only resent each other if they prolonged the inevitable. 

Phasma scooted closer and rested her palm on his cheek. “You know I’m right,” she said, a small attempt at humor.

“You’re always right,” Hux mumbled. “It’s irritating.”

Gently, she pressed her lips to his. She moved slowly, sweetly, but there was no spark, no chance of coaxing a flame out of what the two of them shared. As she leaned away, Hux asked, “Shall we try it sober? One last shot?”

Agreeing wouldn’t change anything; Phasma knew that they needed to break up and that was all there was to it. But just as he’d said earlier, the sex was good. Maybe once the sting wore off, they could even keep that part up.

Though it was a dangerous thing to say, Phasma responded, “Yeah. We can try.”

And try they did. Hux had gone down on her, paid full attention to Phasma’s body, to her responses, but he just couldn’t quite get her to come. After a while, she’d interrupted, suggesting they try something new. 

When she’d reappeared with a strap-on, Hux felt mostly disappointment with enough curiosity mixed in that he’d consented and given it a try. 

It was messy, uncoordinated. Something both of them would want to forget. And the whole time, a little voice in the back of Hux’s head was telling him that they shouldn’t have done this — that trying one last time was only making things worse. Now _this_ would be his memory of their last moments as a couple. Disappointment. Slight frustration. Not even a very good orgasm. 

But they’d tried. He’d _wanted_ to try, and Phasma had agreed.

Afterwards, they laid on Phasma’s bed as they caught their breath. Hux felt empty. What they’d just done was… enlightening, but unsatisfying. And the whole time, he kept thinking about the fact that Phasma was breaking up with him. It wasn’t shocking, but it _was_ disappointing. He understood why, and could see that it was for the best, but it still bothered him. He’d trusted her, confided in her, felt _safe_ with her.

That didn’t have to be over, but it felt like it would at least have to be put on pause.

Sensing that Hux needed time with his thoughts, Phasma stood from the bed wordlessly. She set the strap-on aside and wandered into the ensuite to clean up. As his breathing leveled out, Hux heard the shower start.

If he were feeling melodramatic, he’d leave while she was in the shower. But they’d been friends since middle school and no matter what, she deserved better than that level of pettiness. If it were anyone but Phasma, he’d do it. But for her, he’d stay.

So he cleaned up as best he could with a tissue from the side table, pulled his clothes back on, and slowly retreated to the kitchen. He’d take a shower when he got home. In the meantime, he busied himself with the tea kettle. But he only put on enough for one cup, and it would be for the rooibos tea that only Phasma liked. He wanted to go home. If he stayed, he knew he’d fuck everything up, make her regret ever trying this in the first place.

When Phasma emerged after what felt like a short eternity, she was wearing full pajamas, not a bathrobe like she did when they’d tried to date. She was setting clear boundaries, and Hux fully understood. He didn’t say a word, just offered her the tea. Their fingers brushed as he did so, and he felt a flicker of disappointment.

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” she reminded him gently.

He’d stayed over hundreds of times, long before they’d ever tried dating. But the break was easier for her. She was losing less. Hux knew that was why she was being so casual.

“I _should_ leave, though.”

Phasma. The only person he’d trusted himself to be vulnerable around, and this was what happened. He was stupid to have thought a “trial period” was a good idea, or that he could handle anything like this so soon after what Deaglan did to him. But he tried desperately not to be angry with her, because she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d done more for him than anyone else he knew would have ever done to try to help him through a tough time.

She nodded in agreement with him and balanced the cup of tea in one of her hands. She used the other to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers brushing through the short red hair there. Phasma pressed a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek, wordlessly imparting her understanding.

When she leaned away, their eyes met, and her chest constricted painfully as she watched his gaze turn icy cold. He stood up a little straighter, stepped away, and closed himself off. His walls were up, and she was out.

She watched quietly as he slipped on his loafers, shrugged on his jacket, and left without ever looking back.

+++

Hux wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up dragged out for Poe Dameron’s birthday, but there was some crafty text messaging happening and he’d fallen prey to it. Somehow, he’d maintained his sort-of friendship with Ben Solo, who’d begged and pleaded with Hux not to make him suffer through this alone. Ben’s presence at the party was non-optional, given his friendship with his roommate which quite frankly, to Hux, was incredibly confusing. 

Ben swore he and Rey weren’t dating, and yet he was being dragged along to Dameron’s birthday party like the obedient boyfriend he’d undoubtedly be, should he ever actually commit to someone. 

But Ben promised to buy Hux a drink for his troubles, and Hux didn’t have any plans, anyway. 

He hadn’t been expecting to see Phasma there. 

It had been a full six months since they’d seen each other, and it was the weirdest experience for Hux. Ever since they’d met, they’d spoken almost daily, but after the breakup it was hard to switch back into that mode. Anytime he’d think of something he wanted to tell Phasma, or show her, it was overshadowed by the big, dark cloud that was their fleeting relationship. 

She sat at the bar, casually sipping on a white wine (dry, inevitably, as was her preference) and allowed herself to look just the slightest bit alarmed at the sight of Hux as they approached. 

Dameron intercepted them on their way to have a seat. Already three sheets to the wind, the man stood on his tiptoes and did his best to drape an arm over their shoulders. When he began to stumble, Hux let him go, while Ben begrudgingly caught him. “Thanks for coming, guys!” Poe slurred.

His eyes sparkled brightly as he looked into Hux’s eyes, and the gaze lingered just a moment too long. It made Hux uncomfortable. Who gave Dameron the right to look at him like they were _friends_ or something?

Ben grumpily offered a _happy birthday_ , but Hux decided that even awkward silence with Phasma would be better than a grungy, curly-haired man drunkenly draping himself over them all night. 

“He’s cute,” Phasma commented, keeping the conversation off of their failed relationship. “He was totally checking you out.”

“Please don’t remind me. That’s _Poe Dameron_ you’re talking about. He dresses like he’s homeless.”

Phasma sipped at her wine, chuckling into the glass. “He fancies himself quite the nomad.”

“What a fucking hipster.”

She snorted, and Hux was pleased that they were interrupted by the bartender. Aside from commenting on the small crowd that had gathered for Poe’s birthday, they didn’t have much to talk about. 

He sipped the whiskey, forgetting until the sweet taste was on his tongue that Solo had promised to buy him a drink. If Hux felt like a dick, he’d add the drink he was currently nursing to Ben’s tab, but the whiskey was expensive, and he was almost certain Solo didn’t have enough spare cash to buy _himself_ a drink, never mind to buy Hux one, as well.

They sat in silence for a while, watching as Poe embarrassed himself, hanging off of Rey, and Ben, and Rey’s handsome football friend who smiled _way too much_. For as much as Ben had begged Hux to go with him to save him from misery, he seemed pretty engaged in the conversation with Rey and her friends.

Which left Hux and Phasma at the bar, drinking in silence and avoiding each other’s gaze.

“I’ve missed you, you know.”

Hux had expected Phasma to say a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them. He’d expected admonition, or maybe pity, but not that.

When he looked over, Phasma looked genuinely upset, as though her life had somehow diminished in value when Hux wasn’t in it. Was that even possible? Given his father’s behavior lately, it didn’t seem likely. He barely saw the man anymore, and his father didn’t seem the slightest bit upset by his son’s sudden absence in his life as a result.

She looked different — older, or sadder maybe, Hux couldn’t tell, and — “You cut your hair.”

The statement was abrupt, but honest. She _had_ , and it was nice. It suited her, the short locks that framed her face. She’d cut it progressively shorter over the years, but this look — it was the one. 

“I did, yes. And I see you didn’t.”

And while it was true, she didn’t have to say it. Hux’s expression went sour. “I’ve been busy.”

Phasma let a sparkle of amusement glint in her eyes as she asked, “Are you trying to become more like Ben? If so, you’re doing a great job.”

“His hair looks awful.”

“My statement still stands.”

Hux combed a hand through his long, red hair. It didn’t touch his shoulders yet, but it was getting dangerously close. Combed back for work, it usually looked okay, but he’d showered after going to the gym earlier that day, so it fell in loose, soft strands around his face. Nobody else had commented on it, thankfully.

They fell into silence again, watching as Rey and Poe began to walk towards the karaoke machine. That would most definitely _not_ end well.

“I’m surprised to see you here.”

That time, Hux didn’t look over at the sound of Phasma’s voice. However, Phasma was unrelenting, most of the time. If he put off this conversation, things would only get tougher. 

So, he heaved a sigh, took a sip of his whiskey, and looked over at her. 

“I didn’t realize you’d cut me out of your life completely,” she continued. “I suppose it makes sense, but…”

Hux really, _really_ didn’t want to have this conversation, but it was inevitable. “I needed space,” he said simply. Phasma was quiet, waiting for more explanation. “First Deaglan, then you…”

“You knew as well as I did that we were never going to work out.”

Hux rolled his eyes. That was besides the point. “I hear you’ve gone the opposite way you did after Deaglan and me. Rather than attempting to date, you’ve written it off completely, forever?” Phasma said. “I think that’s a little melodramatic, even for you.”

He set his tumbler of whiskey down with a heavy thud and turned in his seat to face her completely. “I did what I had to do to cope,” he said flatly. He was irritated, and the way his brow furrowed warned Phasma to be careful what she said next. He was close to completely blowing up at her, and it wouldn’t be pretty. “First Deaglan decides I’m not worth his full honesty. Then, you decide that I’m not the right person for you.”

“Which is a valid statement.”

“It _is_ ,” Hux conceded. “But the way it happened —”

“You are a grown-ass man, Armitage. If you were unhappy or wanted some other resolution, you should have just _said_.”

Hux laughed dryly. “What, told you after you broke up with me that we can still fuck if you want to? That I’d become _that_ person? The one so desperate to get laid from time to time that he’d solicit his best friend for sex?” He shook his head and turned back to his whiskey. “Yeah, right.”

At last, they were getting somewhere. Phasma looked satisfied with herself, having gotten a rise out of Hux and coaxed him into _finally_ confessing what it was that he’d wanted all along. She knew better even then to think that he’d honestly been trying to emotionally connect with her. He’d been so transparent the whole time.

“Clearly, I’m not laughing, so you very well could have said that to me, yes.”

Hux didn’t turn his head or acknowledge her, choosing instead to focus his eyes on Finn and Ben, who sat awkwardly at the same table, arms crossed, as Rey and Poe sang a horribly out-of-season song. It was June, but for some _insane_ reason, they’d begun singing ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside.’ Hux rolled his eyes.

“So what, then?” Hux sighed.

He sounded defeated, depressed almost. Phasma studied him closely for a moment. It wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility that he’d struggled with something like that, especially after two very difficult relationship things in the span of a month.

“So, if you want to do the friends with benefits thing for a while, I’m in,” Phasma said simply.

Hux stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was being serious. She couldn’t be, could she? It was an absurd arrangement. But at the same time… Hux looked up at the stage where Rey and Poe sang, and then looked at the way Rey was smiling at Finn and Ben — she _had_ to be screwing one of them, right? So if someone as sweet as Rey could be content with a friends with benefits thing, he could be too, right?

Besides, it wouldn’t shock _anyone_ if they found out.

Another sip of whiskey quelled Hux’s irritation, convincing him to nod and say, “Alright, then. Yes. We can do that for a while.”

“Yeah?” Phasma asked. “You’re sure? You won’t be angry if we break up again one day?”

Hux eyed her warily. “Give me a little credit. Going _into it_ with the premise of no feelings, just sex, changes everything. A lot.”

Phasma considered him for a moment. “Good point.” It wasn’t often she was bested, but she could admit it when she was.

He nodded, clearly done having this discussion. It wasn’t fun. Anything related to feelings, Hux would prefer not to go near with a ten foot pole, never mind discuss in public. But however awkward he may feel about it all, he felt a relief deep in his bones at having Phasma back. He’d known she’d reach out one day — or they’d cross paths, somehow — and only then would he have considered what to say to her. 

Now that the moment had come, it wasn’t as painful as he’d expected, especially not since they’d made their new agreement. 

Things would be okay, now. Hux would work, he’d see Phasma on occasion, and that would be that. Easy. Done. None of that dating nonsense, ever again, which was exactly the way he liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me over at reyssolo.tumblr.com or armltagehux.tumblr.com <3


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